Thanks for the Memories
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Poor Chupathingy. Abandoned by the Reds, forgotten by the world, he was alone. Or at least he was until a Pelican touched down.


**Thanks for the Memories**

The sun still hadn't set.

Hundreds of years had passed since he'd arrived in this bloody gulch, and still the sun hadn't set. Hundreds of years of bird songs, bird shits and the voice of the narrator cutting in about capturing the flag, and still the sun hadn't set.

_Hasn't got any warmer either._

Chupathingy had given up trying to work that out-if it _had _got warmer, chances were he wouldn't be around to ponder it in the first place. And yet, he wondered why the sun didn't set. He wondered why he heard bird songs when he couldn't see any of them. And he wondered how he'd been able to keep functioning for so long.

Flickering his lights, the LRV made his way down the central path of the gulch, moving slowly to preserve his fuel supply. Hydrogen might have been the most common element in the universe, but it was still in short supply here. And even if he somehow tapped into a new source of fuel, wear and tear would get to him in the end. Even if he left the gulch and tried to find his way to the legendary sea,, it would all be for nothing. Like everything was, in the end. For all his adventures, eventually he was doomed to rust and be forgotten. Like he'd been ever since the Red and Blues first left the gulch, the former coming back with a new jeep and the latter still using their bloody tank.

_Least she got what was coming to her…_

Chupathingy lit up the dashboard for a moment as his memory circuits kicked in. The tank was dead. Its AI was gone, catered away in a starship and sent to the great scrap-yard in the sky. And yet, the LRV thought as he dimmed the dashboard's lights, he missed her. Missed the Blues. Missed Lopez. Even missed the Reds, even after they'd replaced him with that second Warthog and the thing that their sergeant called a Mongoose, only for the yellow one to point out it looked like a wombat.

_Or was he orange?_

He missed them. So much…missing…memory…

"Hello."

Chupathingy blazed his horn and reversed as the…_thing _came down in front of him. The thing that sent birds flying away in terror…supposedly. He heard them, but son of a gear, he couldn't _see _them.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the thing said. "Did I startle you?"

"Oh no," Chupathingy said, flashing his lights in Morse code. "You only set me into second gear."

"I thought Walruses were automatics."

"…what?"

"You know, Walruses," the thing said. "Your car make."

"Um…"

Was it really proper to use Morse code for "um?" Either way, Chupathingy pulled it off. Because "um" seemed like the best, most polite way to convey his confusion. Because as he stared at the thing, he realized it wasn't a "thing" at all, but rather a Pelican. Which was no less confusing because as far as he knew, Pelicans needed pilots. And Pelicans didn't speak.

"Um…"

And all he could do was say "um" still.

"You know, I think I recognise you from somewhere…" the craft mused. Chupathingy was about to correct her (it sounded female) but she kept going. "But anyway, if it's our first meeting…well, hi."

"Hi," the LRV said, hoping his dim lights would convey his lack of interest.

"My name's Peli-can't."

"Don't you mean Peli_can_?"

"No, Peli-_can't_," the craft said defiantly. "They said I couldn't fly anymore. The other ships said I had no spark left in me. But I showed them."

"Course you did. That's why you're hiding in the least valuable piece of real estate in the known universe."

"Actually, Chiron has that claim to fame, ever since the Great Janitor War of 2612," Peli-can't said. "But no, actually I came back here because I recognised it. I once flew with another one of my kind with a gruff sergeant as passenger. Even did a bombing run."

"Uh-huh…of course."

Actually, Chupathingy believed her. He believed her, because he was there. He was there when that bloody tank got what was coming to it. Sure, it bounced back and sent him into a coma for three months, but still, it was satisfying for the time.

Everything seemed so satisfying back then…

"So, tell me," Peli-can't began. "How long have you been in this gulch?"

"Oh…you know…a few centuries," Chupathingy mused. "Been alone…don't know if the human race has become any stupider, but-…"

"Oh, the human race doesn't exist anymore."

Chupathingy went back into first gear.

"Oh yeah, didn't you hear?" Peli-can't asked. "They were overcome by the Great Robot Rebellion of 2734…or rather Year 0 according to its leaders. Now they're sub-robots stuck on the French setting."

"Not the Spanish?"

"The language of the robot revolutionaries? Course not. We can't have slaves speaking _that _holy language now can we?"

Chupathingy wondered why not-wouldn't it be better to have your slaves speaking the same language as you so you could control them better? And if that was the case, why was Peli-can't speaking English? It didn't make sense. Of course, things had never made much sense but there'd come a point where things changed. Everything changed…and not just the gears.

"Anyway, I should go," Peli-can't said. "I've got a meeting with some Hornet friends of mine. Want to bitch that Falcons are replacing them. Want a lift?"

"Why would I want that?"

Well, you know…you're in a gulch. Alone. There's a way out of course, but…"

Chupathingy remained silent. Her offer was tempting. And yet…

And yet this was where it all began. Where his best memories were. Even for all their insanity, even for all the times the tank blew him up, even upon learning a new jeep had replaced him…this was home. Been home for 5-6 seasons at least, though how the weather worked on this bloody planet he didn't know. But he did know that it was home…and up to his last spark, his last guzzle of fuel, his last flickering light, he would remember it.

Giving his last flash of light to Peli-can't, he told her so.


End file.
